


In Good Company

by Twelve (Dodici)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, Sharing a Bed, Underage Drinking, Yorkshin City | Yorknew City Arc (Hunter X Hunter), everybody wants to punch Ging, right before Greed Island, you could read it as friendship but Togashi would be disappointed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26191393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dodici/pseuds/Twelve
Summary: Even though healthy family dynamics aren’t Killua’s best expertise, when Gon is concerned, every variation of “punching Ging Freecs” sounds like a safe bet.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 10
Kudos: 142





	In Good Company

**Author's Note:**

> The only reason why I didn’t end up calling innocent take-out boxes “oyster pails” as suggested by the internet is because I’m lucky enough to be friend with the amazing [chubsthehamster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubsthehamster) who among her many talents is also an awesome beta XDD

Killua has stretched his legs on the floor, mindful of cockroaches and the heaps of scattered garbage they’ve added to the garbage that was already inside that dingy building. 

Still, a faithful delivery person managed to somehow bring in their order, overbearing smell of sweet and sour sauce attached. Why someone would ruin something sweet with anything sour is honestly beyond Killua’s understanding, but Gon seems to enjoy it just fine as he rummages inside Leorio’s take-out box to pick up shrimps he could have easily ordered for himself. 

Leorio is too busy chugging down half a beer in one sip to mind him anyway, bottle in hand and wistful expression.

“Drinking alone isn’t fun at all.”

“Well, sorry for not being here,” Killua says, in the driest tone he can muster up.

“You know what I mean! It was funnier with Zepile, that’s all. Who would have thought you two were such goody-two-shoes! At your age, I would have killed for a sip of alcohol.”

“At my age, I can easily kill without any alcohol at all, old man."

That makes Gon laugh, but he sounds somewhat distracted, eyes out of focus long enough for Killua to weigh if he should kick him out of it. But he’s Gon, of course, so it takes less than a heartbeat before he gets back smiling hard enough to light the room better than the scanty lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. “I’m not sure I like alcohol, really. It smells weird and some of it burns a lot when you drink it.”

Killua’s coughs orange juice on Leorio’s pants and they’re both too shocked to mind it.

“You drink? _You_?”

Gon blinks at them. He’s the portrait of innocence.

“Well, it’s not uncommon on Whale Island,” he explains, cheerful around a bite of spicy pork. “The guys at the docks used to have a lot of fun making me try liquors at the pub because I could always tell which one was which just based on the smell.”

Killua doesn’t know what to say. He squints at his orange juice.

“You never tried alcohol, Killua?”

“No way,” he says. “I mean, building up a tolerance for alcohol isn’t useful, so I didn’t train for it.”

“Alcohol isn’t about training.” Leorio raises one finger, cheeks red. “It’s about companionship. And that giddy feeling that makes everything better.”

Gon nods, another stolen shrimp grasped at the tip of his chopsticks.

“That’s what the guys at the pub said. Aunt Mito got mad at them, though, so they stopped. It was fun, I mean, they’re a friendly bunch so it was almost like having friends.”

Killua feels his eyebrows raising up but he doesn’t say anything. Leorio is definitely too gone to take notice.

“Exactly, that’s exactly how it is. Alcohol is about making friends.”

Gon laughs a bit, probably more at Leorio’s sputtering enthusiasm than at the megalomaniac declaration; Killua sighs and regrets his choice of chow mein: there’s too many funny-looking vegetables inside it.

“It was funnier with Zepile, though,” Gon says. He’s opening his box of dumplings to add another layer of unidentifiable smell inside the congested room. “I mean, alcohol or not.”

Leorio sighs like the old man he is.

“Yeah, it was. He’s a cool guy, right?”

“Sure! Without him, we would have never made enough money to get inside the auction, right Killua?”

Killua is too busy examining a mysterious, pale, slimy bit at the end of his chopsticks.

“I guess. But I’m sure we would have found a way. I mean, in the end we’re going with your idea anyway.”

Leorio smiles at them both; maybe the alcohol really makes him feel all giddy and stupidly fond.

“So, are you guys working hard?”

Gon’s eyes light up.

“Yeah! I think I’m close… How is yours coming up, Killua?”

“It’s still a secret,” he says, and pokes at the slimy bite. Is it egg? Is it a piece of zucchini? Who knows. Since Gon’s mouth is conveniently open to protest, he just sticks the mysterious food inside it. Gon swallows.

“I think it’s tofu,” he says, and the mute ‘ehw’ must have been glaring on Killua’s face. Gon rolls his eyes. “Tofu is good! And why did you get chow mein if you’re so picky, anyway, you know they put everything inside it. Here, let’s swap.” He hands him his dumplings, unfazed. “So Kurapika really departed, just like that?” 

Leorio needs to clear his voice and swallow a giant bite, before he deigns to offer an answer.

“Well, don’t talk like he’s dead… We’ll keep in contact,” he says, with a smile that is a bit too forceful. Maybe he’s self-aware, because then he shakes his head, settling his mouth in a more confident curve. “And, anyway, I asked Melody to keep an eye on him.”

“She seems pretty reliable,” Killua agrees. Honestly, Melody might be the most calming, level-headed presence Killua has ever encountered in his life—and since Kurapika seems to need it the most, it’s a small miracle that they ended up meeting. He looks at Gon, who’s frowning as he rummages inside the chow mein. Sometimes the universe can be kind, even if it’s probably just dumb luck. 

Gon seems disappointed—almost hurt, which is a weird look on him; Killua doesn’t like it, but he doesn't know what to do about it.

“He really didn’t want to interrupt your training,” Leorio says, and offers another one of his shrimps.

Gon blinks at him, but he still looks distressed.

“I mean, I appreciate that.” He nibs at the shrimp, mouth turned downward. “But it wouldn’t have been an interruption, I would have just really liked to say goodbye… But of course he’s right,” he then adds, voice spiking up so suddenly that one of the dumplings slips from Killua’s chopsticks and falls back inside the box with a soggy plop. Gon is grinning then, eyebrows springing up as he turns toward Killua. “We really don’t have even a second to spare… Actually, we should get back to training, right now!”

Killua looks at him, then down at the remaining dumplings.

Gon blinks, still holding his own half-eaten chow mein.

“Race you!” he declares, already stuffing his mouth full. Killua is pretty proud to say that he manages to choke only on the first bite before being game.

“You kids are crazy,” Leorio says, over his third beer, but he still plays judge when they argue over who finished first.

*

That lingering smell of take-out food isn’t enough to cover the stink of mold and humidity, of something overcooked, maybe burnt a little?

The stun gun is still warm in his hand when Killua thinks about sniffing his own arm.

“Oh. Well, that explains at least the burnt part,” he says, to the pairs of burn marks scattered around his armpit. He tries to snort and ends up yawning, back already bouncing on the bed. Or trying to, since the whole thing creaks instead.

“I hate this place,” he decides, eyes glued to the mold on the ceiling. If he tilts his head and squints a bit, it really looks like Illumi’s face, big cat-eyes and streaks of long hair. Ominous. 

He keeps looking at it just in case it decides to move and attack him while he sleeps. There’s no other sound apart from the rumble of passing cars and Leorio’s snoring down the hall. Killua doesn’t really know why he insisted on staying in that abandoned building with him and Gon, since it’s not like the Troupe is chasing him. Now there isn’t even Kurapika to take care of anymore.

The steps are coming from inside; they’re close to the door in no time. Killua keeps staring at that ugly Illumi-mold.

“Thought you were already asleep,” he says, as the door creaks on its hinges. It’s a miracle it doesn’t fall down.

Gon is barefoot and his hair is sticking in every direction.

“Yeah, that would have been nice.” That sounds cryptic as hell, but sometimes Gon is just like that—wrapped up in his own weird logic, forgetting to let people in. 

Killua sits up and stretches out his arms. He feels stiff like that old mattress, muscles twitching awkwardly. Maybe this whole electric-aura thing is a bad idea—crazy enough to impress that Tetsguerra guy, for sure, and that’s what matters, right?

“Any breakthrough?” he asks, and Gon grins.

“I called mister Wing. He was pretty useful. I think I’ll be ready.” He sounds confident—good. He’s also carrying a blanket with him. He closes the door and tiptoes around a scattered cockroach and Killua’s last bag of chips.

“Everything is going according to plan then.”

Gon stays silent. He steps closer, and he’s already standing right in front of the bed when Killua turns to look at him. 

“So why are you walking around at night?”

Gon is—there’s something different than usual, some nervous energy about him. Killua assumed he was still riled up about Tetsguerra, but maybe it’s something else. Something that makes him bounce on the ball of his heels as he tries to prevent the blanket he’s carrying from dusting the dirt off the floor.

“I just… Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” 

Killua tries to tone down his quizzical look. 

“Do as you please, we're basically squatting here. Did something happen?”

Gon shakes his head and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he turns to decide where he should place himself, like a nervous dog.

“I guess it feels a bit like an anticlimactic ending… I mean, with Kurapika and the Troupe.” He keeps on chatting while he sits on the other end of the bed, frowning when he gets sucked in by the slouchy mattress. “Then Zepile too said goodbye today, and it seems like Leorio is going to get back to his studies soon.”

“Thank God. I bet he spends most of his time getting drunk and wanking off—”

“Killua!”

“What? You know it’s probably true!”

“Well, it’s impolite to talk about stuff like that,” Gon says and now that he’s gotten to know her, Killua can tell without fault when he’s just parroting Aunt Mito. It’s like he’s possessed—very enthralling to watch, at least until his face falls down again.

“So, it looks like it’s going to be just you and me once again.”

Killua’s brain slips inside his skull and the room wobbles. He scratches at his nose, head empty and buzzing.

“Well, that’s really nice of you?”

Gon blinks at him like he hasn’t processed his words. Then he launches himself forward, wheezing.

Sparks fly from the collision of their skin; Gon yelps as they fall, Killua tackled down on the flabby mattress.

“What was that,” Gon asks, pupils huge. His breath smells of sauce and shrimps, chest rising fast as he looks around like he was expecting to be ambushed by the Spiders—not that it would have been weird, given the amounts of actual eight-legged guests inside the room.

“It was just static, calm down,” Killua says. Their noses are so darn close—he angles his knees and elbows to flip him over, skin sizzling again at the contact. Gon falls on the floor, limbs scattered.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Killua!” He sounds like a beaten puppy, sprawled down in between insects and garbage. “Of course I’m happy to be with you! Sorry, you know I’m not good with words.”

“Whatever.” Heck, Killua can feel his face growing red like he’s been dipped inside hot sauce. He kicks Gon’s blanket off the bed for good measure.

“What I meant is… Last time we had a plan, you know? Get back all together on September first.”

Killua scoffs.

“That didn’t end up quite as we planned.” He’s really trying to downplay the—what was that? It burned way more than any attempt at electrocution. It cut his breath in a half and stung up inside his throat. Maybe those dumplings are trying to get revenge on him.

Gon is sitting up; he lifts his blanket and a cockroach dashes off it.

“Right? I mean, we managed to meet up and it was still pretty difficult, but then Kurapika… And who knows when we’ll see each other again.”

Killua really isn’t sure what to make of that.

“And that bothers you?” he asks.

Gon lowers his head and coughs out a laugh, feeble, before grinning back at him.

“It’s silly, isn’t it?”

“People have their own things to do, just like you.” Killua knows he’s being harsh—well, it’s not like Gon really remembers to stop being as blunt as a double-edged sword at any given time. “You already knew that, it was just dumb luck that we ended up having our plans overlapping for a bit.” He doesn’t add that Leorio was there just to see them; that was oddly sweet, because maybe he really was busy getting drunk and wanking off, but he decided to consciously put that aside for a bit just to come and spend some time with them. Potentially deadly time that swung from dealing with bandits and murderers to sleeping in abandoned facilities overflowing with cockroaches.

Gon is scratching at his scalp.

“Yeah, sure, and that’s fine! I mean, it’s…”

“Apart from me,” Killua adds, then. He almost forgot at some point in the midst of helping out Gon and then Kurapika and then tazing himself for the fun of it. “Everyone has their thing to do apart from me.”

“But you’re going to stay, right?” Gon asks, like he too had already forgotten about that. “You’re going to play Greed Island with me and—”

Killua hushes him with the flip of a hand.

“Of course I’m staying, you moron. It’s what I told you, right?”

Gon nods so hard his neck snaps.

“Yes. I really didn’t mean—I’m sorry, Killua. Sometimes my brain comes up with silly stuff. You’re right, I am a moron.”

Killua is just—his head hits the wall; he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Maybe strangle Gon?

“Yes, you are,” he says instead, to that Illumi-faced mold. “Where does all this rumination come from, anyway? It’s not like you at all.”

He knows Gon has stuck his tongue at him even if it’s already vanished when he stands up and retrieves the blanket, flapping it to get rid of the dirt.

“Can I sleep with you? Just for tonight.” He isn’t blushing—Gon’s never been properly embarrassed for more than a second in his whole life, Killua is sure about it—but he does look nervous, like he’s expecting to be turned down. Like Killua would ever be able to refuse him anything. 

He’s the one who blushes like a dumbass, but at least Gon has already switched off the lights, then.

Killua scoots over the bed to make space for him; it's barely big enough for one person, it sure isn’t for two, but Gon plops himself on it like it’s a bed worthy of the two-hundredth floor back at Heavens Arena.

Their shoulders touch and the sparks come back, louder than the creaking of the bedframe.

“Oh, it was really you! Does your special move have something to do with static?”

Killua hits him right on the head.

“I told you, it’s a secret.”

“Right. Mine’s a secret too, you know?”

“Yes, that’s how we said it was going to be.”

There’s a weird silence, as Gon shifts on the mattress and drapes his blanket on Killua too. He sighs, like he was keeping something heavy buried down his throat. 

Illumi-mold’s face is invisible now, even when headlights of passing cars cast squares of yellow and white on the ceiling, blinding without the filter of an actual glass on the broken window.

Killua waits until Gon gets still. He’s on his side; Killua can almost make out his whole shape in the dark, from the spiky ends of his hair to the soft lines of his feet, sticking out from the blanket.

“You know, you have a phone now,” Killua finds himself saying. “You can call Leorio anytime you want. And Kurapika too, even if making him pick up would probably be a hassle. We should have asked Melody for her number.”

It was intended as a joke, and Gon laughs, but it’s a small thing, and his form curls up onto itself a bit more, forehead touching Killua’s shoulder.

“I was asleep,” he says then, so inconsequential Killua feels like the whole room has been flipped over. “I was dreaming.”

“Were you dreaming about Kurapika?”

“No,” Gon says, and Killua holds his breath, waiting for him to elaborate further—he doesn’t, because he’s Gon and Gon’s brain is an unpredictable animal. “You think we’ll find Ging inside Greed Island?”

“Well, that would also explain why he doesn’t seem to be anywhere else, right? If he’s inside a game, it makes sense that he’s difficult to find.”

Gon nods, breath ticklish on Killua’s skin.

“Yeah. But what if he isn’t there?”

“Then I’m sure he’s left another hint for you to find him somewhere else.”

Makes sense, doesn’t it? At least as far as anything Ging-related does.

Gon keeps silent and still, but they’ve been together for quite a while now—together in more ways than just sharing spaces and food and routines. Killua can _feel_ him thinking now; Gon thinks hard and fast, single-minded at full power, and always, always unpredictable, because he constantly defies everything Killua has been taught about people, and about himself too.

“You’re right, Killua. And you’re going to come with me even then, right?”

Gon can also be really, really dumb.

“Of course I am, you’d just get in trouble without me,” Killua tells him, confident, and Gon’s breath eases. He exhales and throws an arm around him; not quite a hug, just there, the weight of it, limp fingers and pointy elbow right between Killua’s ribs. 

“Thanks, Killua.”

“What are you thanking me for? Go to sleep,” he answers back, but he’s on autopilot, brain suddenly hyperaware. He feels Gon’s eyelids shutting close, little insect feet running on the floor, Leorio soft snoring outside those walls, his own heart rate skyrocketing, and the rattling sound of a chasm open wide inside his skull. 

He said he would have helped him find Ging. And searched for something to do after that but what if—what if he won’t find it? What if they find Ging and then—what about him, then?

“Killua?”

He doesn’t startle, he doesn’t move. Gon’s voice sounds drowsy, already half-asleep, and still he’s warm and that arm is grounding and solid. 

“I’m sorry about what I said before. I’m—I never feel lonely when you’re with me, you know? I really, really like it.”

Killua is so, so lucky that the room is dark. He swallows.

“Yeah. I don’t mind it too.” 

He can’t see that Illumi-mold, but Illumi’s gaze is always somewhere above him—somewhere inside him. Maybe Gon feels the same with Ging, in different ways, an absence that lingers beneath his skin and sometimes, when it gets quiet at night, it creeps inside his head too.

For the first time since listening to his voice from an old cassette tape, Killua feels a weird kind of burning, a pinch right at the pit of his stomach—he thinks he gets Aunt Mito, now.

He wants to punch Ging Freecs, that’s what he wants to do. It’s a stupid thought, fully formed and glaring inside his mind; idiotic, too, because Ging Freecs must be the real deal and Killua could maybe have a chance at zapping him a bit, but punching… He lets out a heavy breath and places his arm on Gon’s own.

Gon mumbles something and shifts closer, sleeping.

Killua knows he isn’t going to sleep tonight and it’s not because he’s going to tumble from that bed, not with Gon’s arm wrapped around him to prevent the fall.

He should be thankful. If Ging wasn’t such a bad dad, it would have been impossible for someone like Killua to meet Gon; and here they are instead, sharing the worst sleep arrangement ever, limbs entangled, Gon’s hair brushing raspy and ticklish on Killua’s cheek.

He should be thankful, but he feels angry instead—and if he’ll ever get to meet Ging Freecs, he'll need a very good reason to refrain from decking him square in the face.

**Author's Note:**

> The punchline is that Leorio beats him to the punch :’D (I truly am sorry).


End file.
